


Places

by Kalamos



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish Has Feelings, Adam Parrish Has Self-Esteem Issues, Adam Parrish Hates Himself, Adam hangs out with the Dream Pack that's it that's the fic, Dream Thieves Nostalgia, Gen, Give Adam Parrish A Hug, He needs a hug too, Joseph Kavinsky Likes Corrupting People, Street Racing, bonding over daddy issues, boy there's a whole lot of tags for this poor kid, i found this while clearing out my drafts, i guess, might as well yknow, self-reflection to introspection to brief outbursts of violence to making out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:21:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26422567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalamos/pseuds/Kalamos
Summary: The howling of an engine interrupts his thoughts. Adam doesn't need to look to know it's Kavinsky, and yet he does anyway: the bright Evo pulling up like a glow in the dark toy, tacky decals and all, headlights tinted an icy shade of blue. He feels the vibrations of the bass before he even hears the music, and for some reason, it's making him feel... warm.He doesn't like to dwell on that. It's a recurring thing, that feeling. He craves it.AU in which everything is the same except Adam races Kavinsky & his pack for money.
Relationships: Joseph Kavinsky/Adam Parrish
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	Places

**Author's Note:**

> in 2020 we just dump our questionable drafts into the world and don't look back

Middle of November. Rain splashing against the windshield, freezing hands on the wheel, heating broken as usual. Adam is wrapped up in three layers of clothes and too tired to care. That he's shivering or that he hasn't eaten anything since two days ago or that he spent his last fifty dollars for this month on tuning the engine of this piece of trash car instead of getting a proper winter coat.  
It's his piece of trash car. It's fast. And if it's fast enough, he'll have enough money for ten winter coats, and taking a week off work to catch up on sleep, and maybe inviting Ronan to a pizza at Nino's.   
(As if.)

Skov's car is already waiting in the parking lot, and through the sheet of rain Adam can also make out a bright pink smudge that is probably Prokopenko's hair.  
(He's lost a bet. Which Adam knows because Adam was there when it happened.  
Safe to assume he's spending too much time with these people.)  
Something cold drips into his neck, finally breaking him out of his lethargy.   
_Fuck this. Fuck it all._ He rams his fist into the brittle plastic of the dashboard. There's a dark, wet stain spreading out on the ceiling. He'd prayed the roof would make it at least halfway through the winter, but neither luck nor God are on his side these days.  
With an exasperated sigh, he rummages in the glove compartment for some duct tape.   
Win this race and get some rest, get proper clothes, eat a full meal, go back to working three jobs and getting beaten up by his father.   
Win this race and fix the roof, get some tuning done, get back into the game, rinse and repeat.

It's always this or that. Money or time. Sleep or friends. Future or safety. 

For just one day, he wants to - not have to choose. To just have everything that comes so naturally for someone like Gansey, like Ronan. 

The howling of an engine interrupts his thoughts. He doesn't need to look to know it's Kavinsky, and yet he does anyway: the bright Evo pulling up like a glow in the dark toy, tacky decals and all, headlights tinted an icy shade of blue. He feels the vibrations of the bass before he even hears the music, and for some reason, it's making him feel... warm. 

He doesn't like to dwell on that. It's a recurring thing, that feeling. He craves it. The only person close to making him feel this way is Ronan, but Ronan is - different.

Adam has this stupid notion that he wants to see eye to eye with his friends.   
It's painting a shadow over every meeting with Ronan, with Gansey, even Blue.  
Here, he just feels... like he's been under water for a long time and finally came up to breathe.  
There's no need to impress these people, to put on a show, to try to hide, because they're so fundamentally different that these things just cease to matter.

It's as close to carefree as Adam Parrish gets. 

The Evo rolls to a stop next to him, and even the swift motion of opening the door to slide out of his car, into the Evo's passenger seat, has him drenched in rain. He pulls the door shut. Kavinsky's car is like a cave - dark, dashboard full of blinking lights, the music enveloping them like a blanket - and above all, it's warm. His body relaxes into the seat without him fully realizing he's doing it.  
"What's up, trailer boy." Kavinsky's voice can only be heard because he's leaning over from the driver's seat. He's taken off his sunglasses and looks at Adam with heavy-lidded eyes, mouth formed into something half sneer, half smile. That, Adam has learned, is an expression of - something like fondness among his circle of friends.   
He returns the gesture.

Kavinsky's gaze is searching his face, looking for something though Adam doesn't know what that could be, and he bears it steadily. With a sudden jerk, Kavinsky turns away.  
"Race track is this way." He motions to the far left. "Up till the old water tower and back. Jiang and Swan are up there to check. Skov and Proko are waiting down here."  
"Wait." Adam frowns. "I thought they were racing, too."  
"Nope." Kavinsky's grin flicks on like a lightbulb. "Just the two of us, sweetheart. All or nothing."  
"Money's still the same?"  
Kavinsky leans too far into his personal space to open up the glove compartment, filled with several stacks of rubberband-bound notes. "Something like it. Well, I suppose you don't have that kind of cash, so let's say you win, you get the cash, you lose, I get to blow up your stupid car."  
Nothing worth getting upset over. Adam closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. He didn't count the money, doesn't need to to know it's a lot. More than they agreed on in the first place. He won't be sad about his car - fuck, the only thing he would be sad about would be not getting to do it in himself - but if he loses this, he loses everything.

"Second thoughts, Parrish?" Kavinsky drawls.  
"Fuck you." Adam bumps his fist against Kavinsky's, which feels less meaningful than it's supposed to. When he gets out of the Evo, the sudden cold hits him like a shock, and the seat in his own car feels damp, like the duct tape didn't even try to stop the leaky ceiling.   
_Breathe, Adam_ , he instructs himself. _Focus._  
He can do this. He's a better driver than Kavinsky, and even though his car looks like a junkyard on wheels, it could beat the Evo.  
Probably.  
Maybe.

He's fucked. 

But he's fucked either way so he might as well just throw himself into this. Skov's headlights blink up once, then twice, the signal to get into position.   
Adam starts the car. Feels calm spread through him as the engine comes to life with something that's half roar, half purr. Closes his hand around the gear knob.   
More light signals. Then a window on the passenger side of Skov's car rolls down, Prokopenko's bony arm holding up a gun. He's yelling something Adam can't understand, but when the gunshot tears through the night, every part of him knows what to do.  
Gear clutch, accelerate, focus on road. Gain speed. Clutch. Shift into the next gear. Listen to the engine working its way up into the upper RPM range. Shift gear. The Evo is a white smudge in the rear view mirror as the road opens before him, mud splashing as he speeds through puddles and potholes without a second thought. Shift gear. No sight of Kavinsky anymore. Water tower looming in the distance. Coming closer. Shift gear. Swerve to the right to tackle the U-turn from a smoother angle. There's Jiang's Supra, flaming orange, headlights illuminating the yard around the tower's base. The curve is still too sharp; gravity pulls him to the edge of the road, his knuckles are white where his hands grip the wheel too tight, a screeching noise as the passenger side door scrapes the metal fence surrounding the area. Shift gear down, accelerate, speed up once more, almost done - clutch, shift gear up, floor gas pedal on the way back, and - 

The Evo hums idly just behind the finish line as Adam races past, spraying the smooth white surface with mud before he comes to a stop a few hundred feet behind.  
Adam's first thought is, _What the fuck._ Then, _impossible._  
And then the truth dawns on him, which is that Kavinsky never even left the starting line.

He's out of his car before it even stopped moving. It's still raining but he doesn't feel it now; dark burning rage wraps him in as he stalks over to the Evo, tears open the door on the driver's side and drags out Kavinsky, who's still all grins and superiority.  
"The fuck you think you're playing at?" Adam's hands curl around the collar of Kavinsky's shirt, shake him, shove him against the Evo's solid side.   
Kavinsky just laughs open mouthed into his face. "God, you should've seen yourself. So desperate."  
Before he really knows what he's doing, Adam's right hand lets go of Kavinsky, curls into a fist, and collides with Kavinsky's cheekbone. Once, twice. Then his jaw. Kavinsky's grin never fades, just becomes bloodsmeared and then washed out because the rain is still pouring.   
Finally, Adam becomes aware of his surroundings again. His breathing comes fast and hard, like he's run a mile without realizing it. Kavinsky's body is a relentless thing trapped between Adam and the Evo and yet he still looks like he's got everything he wanted.

"How does it feel, Parrish?" The words are slurred from blood or rain or whatever drug he's taken before.   
Adam closes his eyes. Wishes he could vanish into thin air. Horrified by what he's just done but not enough to want to take it back, and he - he gives in to it.  
"You deserved it," he whispers, fervently.  
Kavinsky leans forward, his face almost touching Adam's. "Bet that's what your dad says too."  
He wants to deny it - wants to be _able_ to deny it - but it's the truth and he steps back with a defeated slump of his shoulders.  
He's feeling the rain now, the cold, the November winds an icy fist telling him to just give up.  
Kavinsky's face is distorted by a terrible grimace - not quite a grin, not quite sadness.   
"Don't worry, trailer boy, you'll get your money."  
"I don't fucking care about the money," Adam yells, temper flaring up again. 

"Parrish." Kavinsky reaches out for his shoulder, drags him back. Shoves him against the car in what's effectively a reversal of their earlier position. Now it's Adam trapped between Kavinsky and the Evo, his backside warm from the Evo's working heating, his front shielded from the cold by Kavinsky.   
"There's places your pride won't take you." Kavinsky's eyes seem to pierce him with ferocious feeling, though most likely it's just cocaine.   
Adam shakes his head, feeling numb. "I doubt you'd know anything about places you can't get."  
"Oh, but I do." Kavinsky moves closer, wolf grin just inches from Adam's face. "You're trying to get away. Do the right thing. You wanna prove to the whole world you can take them down on your own. And then, when you do," his mouth too close to Adam's ear, breathing hot on his cheekbone; "when you finally do, you look into the mirror and it's still your father's face staring back at you."   
He laughs, softly. Adam closes his eyes. Tries to concentrate on something that isn't those words. The places their bodies touch: knees, shoulders, Kavinsky's lips on his ear. Either it's an accident or Kavinsky actually remembered which one is his hearing side.   
It doesn't feel like an accident.

"Just saying, Parrish. Do whatever. Just don't believe there's a right way to anything, because for people like you and me, there's only the lesser of too many evils."  
Adam knows those kind of thoughts - has had them before, has even found counter arguments, a lot of good reasons against. Right now, though, he can't remember any of them. Just Kavinsky's voice floating through his brain, the warmth of being close to someone he's not afraid of hurting, and also - weakness.   
Wanting, for just one moment, to not have to be strong. _Just this once_ , he tells himself. 

"So what are those places pride won't take me, huh?" Adam hasn't known he was gonna say the words until they're out, too quiet, but Kavinsky has still heard them. The grip on his shoulder tightens, Kavinsky's voice is a hoarse whisper.  
"I'm gonna show you."


End file.
